Rogue's Challenge (12 page)

Tomorrow he would push them hard to Edinburgh and he would find those blasted spectacles and get her back where she belonged. Safely in Colin's keep where solid stone walls separated them.

"Is it warm where she and Tuck come from?” Michael asked. “I've ne'er seen a lass so bothered by a slight chill."

"Aye, in part of their country,” he said, recalling much of what Amelia had told him. “But she is unaccustomed to sleeping outside."

"I ken she didna travel much."

"Nay, she did not travel as Amelia.” She hid away from the world. But why? Was there some wretch who had mistreated her? Or was she afraid all men were like her father, clearly without a heart. Why else would the man have let his only daughter wander through Scotland and beyond while threats for her safety had been laid at his feet? How could he not treasure her?

Jenny shivered and clutched the tartan tighter. Tomorrow he would put more distance between them, but he could not in good conscience allow the woman to freeze.

Knowing he tempted his sanity, he rose from his spot across from the meager flames and lay down beside her, ignoring Michael's knowing look. He pulled her into his arms then covered them with his blanket. She sighed softly against his neck and her shivering ceased.

Michael rolled to his side and pinned him with a look. “'Tis no’ like you tae play with a lassie's heart."

Ian looked to the stars, but didn't relinquish his hold on her. “You said so yourself, she is frail. ‘Tis for warmth, nothing more,” he lied, to Michael and to himself.

"Are you goin’ tae tell the lass of your false marriage afore we reach Edinburgh?” Michael asked, returning his attention to the star-speckled canvas above them. “'Twould be best if she didna hear it from your mouth in company. ‘Twould ruin the tale."

"Aye, in the morning.” And she would argue quite long upon the subject right after slapping him soundly for finding herself in his arms.

"At the inn, will you no’ be expected tae share a room?"

"I will sleep outside her door. We will take turns, you and I,” Ian said.

"I can only hope. I've grown tae like the lass, and wouldna’ care tae have tae defend her honor,” Michael said, no jest present in his voice whatsoever.

"You shall not have to. Now go to sleep."

Jenny murmured softly in her sleep, and Ian's treacherous ears swore she'd said his name. He fell asleep with a grin on his lips and dread in his heart. How was he going to maintain his honor and her virtue when an invisible force continued to push him closer to her with each passing hour?

Jenny felt warm, safe, and very comfortable. So much so she didn't want to open her eyes. That is until her pillow moved.

She fell very still and lifted her lids. A chin with a rather strong looking jaw covered in a day old fair-haired beard was barely a breath away from her face. This close she had no trouble seeing the slight cleft faintly hidden beneath the stubble.

With a gulp she lifted her head, dying to get a really good look at Ian Southernland. Without her glasses she had to be nearly nose-to-nose with the man to see him, and this was her only chance, because she didn't believe for one minute that they would find a peddler with glasses, least of all one with any strong enough to make much of a difference. Regardless of how many wishes she made.

Praying Ian was still sound asleep, his deep breathing hinting that he was, she let her gaze travel along his powerful jaw across his features. She was stunned, awed, and thoroughly amazed at how right Tuck had been. He was the very image of her Prince Charming. He was beautiful.

There was a hitch in his breathing and she suddenly found a pair of startling blue eyes peering back at her. She licked her lips as she struggled for something coherent to say while her limbs had locked in place, but what? Sorry I slept on you?

Those amazing eyes darkened, sending her good sense to the farthest edge of the planet, and she pressed her mouth to his. He was not appalled by her actions, quite the opposite. Like a whisper, he teased and tormented her with his lips, warm and soft, and full of sin.

She should stop this. This wasn't a good idea, for either of them. But he ignored the faint sound in the back of her throat and took complete advantage of her unintelligible protest, if that's what one would call it. She wasn't so sure any longer. Perhaps more of a moan, if she examined it more closely. But examinations were the furthest thing from her mind.

Sliding his hand to the back of her head, he held her captive as he invaded the inner recesses of her mouth, exploring, tasting, devouring. So much more than the kiss they'd first shared. This one held more fire, more power, more—
wow
.

Michael stirred.

What was she doing? She scrambled off Ian's chest to a safe distance. What to say? How to make herself say that it could never happen again when all she wanted was for it to happen over and over and over?

"I'm sorry,” she managed to squeak out.

Ian sat up and propped his arm on a bended knee with a sigh. “So am I, little one. So am I.” He got to his feet and started breaking camp.

She let her gaze drop from his powerful form to the ground beneath her. Sorry? Yeah, she could well imagine he was sorry. Kissing the irritating scientist. Yeah, right, big mistake.

"Why am I not surprised?” she mumbled as she got to her feet. She wasn't the type he usually dallied with, of that she was certain. Even she could tell he preferred the Innes's of the world. Tall, shapely ... giggly. Cinderella wannabe's were not for him.

After a quick bite to eat, one she didn't taste, they set out for Edinburgh, Ian on his horse and Jenny on hers. She sighed at the blurry sight of his broad shoulders. Well, she supposed it was for the best. Knowing he wasn't interested in her early on was better than a much more humiliating turndown later.

Her hand slipped from the pommel to her lips. But why did he kiss her if he wasn't interested?

Idiot, dolt, fool!
Ian called himself that and more. He'd meant to arise before her, not let her find herself in his arms. Mostly to save her any embarrassment and him a firm slap to the face. But nay, she had not slapped him, not physically. Her stammered apology was more than enough. She did not want him, not in truth.

Ah, but that kiss. He couldn't recall anything so sweet, so inviting, so painfully arousing as the warmth of her tongue sparing with his, her small lithe body curled against him, those lily white legs tangling with his beneath the blanket.

He shifted in his saddle at the sudden discomfort. He had to banish the memory from his mind. She did not, could not want him. It was nothing more than a bit of curiosity on her part, no doubt. An accident, as it were. His brow furrowed. Was she experimenting on him in some way?

Michael cleared his throat and nodded toward their charge.

Ah yes. His lie. He would return to his musings over the true reason she kissed him at a later time. “Mistress Maxwell, there is aught something I must tell you."

She cut her eyes at him, but would not look directly at him. Puzzling. If they're encounter had been an experiment, would she not be more inclined to observe his reactions for some time? Or had that kiss been the result of something else?

He shifted his thoughts back to his announcement and continued. “For your safety, I have decided to let it be known that I have taken you to wife."

She snapped her head around and narrowed her eyes at him. “That is absolutely ridiculous."

That certainly got her attention. But as he had feared, she argued against his decision for nigh on to three hours.

"I don't see why we have to lie,” she said for the seventh or possibly the eighth time. He'd lost count as they plodded along the road.

And for the seventh or eighth time, he said, “'Twill make life simpler and safer if we do so."

"No one has bothered us—
me
since that first day."

Having had quite enough of the entire debate, Ian pulled his horse alongside hers, reached over, plucked her from the saddle, and planted her firmly in front of him.

"You're not going to win this argument by picking me up like a sack of potatoes,” she snarled.

With a chuckle, he said, “Sweeting, there is no argument. I have made my decision and it shall stand. Now, I suggest you hold on."

He kicked his mount into a steady gallop with Michael shaking his head as they sped past. The sooner he got her to an inn and out of his sight the better it would be for them all.

Of course he was having the devil of a time with her wrapped around him at present, but with a destination ahead of them, and perhaps a bit of peace, he was more than willing to endure it.

He may even leave her in Michael's care this evening and find himself some true relief. That would surely get his mind off of her and that tantalizing kiss. And more importantly, the search for a reason behind it. He did not wish to think she wanted him, for it would try his resolve to remain at arm's length from the woman.

After an endless ride, he slowed his mount and felt her fingers loosen their death grip on his doublet.

"I wish you wouldn't do that,” she muttered.

"'Twas necessary. If you will but look, we have arrived."

And none too soon. Jenny felt the rapid beat of her heart, and knew it wasn't from fear. The ride had excited her in many ways, none of them good. Or all of them good, she supposed it really had to do with one's perspective. In any event, she was glad they'd arrived, and she could put some well-needed space between her and Ian's wonderfully broad, warm chest.

Within an hour they had rooms at an inn, one Ian had apparently frequented before, and Jenny was enjoying her first hot bath in days. Although she did have to endure spiteful muttered words from the maids and the raucous comments made by the innkeeper, Mr. Dougal, about their marriage. Still a bath was a bath, and she savored it.

She giggled as she rinsed her hair. Recalling some of the things said to Ian about his recent nuptials and some of the comments made by the girls. It served him right if his love life had taken a distinct nosedive. She'd tried to tell him it wasn't necessary, had some very fine points in her favor, but he wouldn't listen, the stubborn oaf.

The water turned cool, and she climbed from the tub and got dressed. All the while, she struggled to keep images of Ian's sleepy warm gaze from her mind. If they really were married, she could look at those eyes every morning and more.

"No. That won't ever happen.” They probably wouldn't even sleep in the same bed. Separate accommodations were common for a husband and wife of his station in this century. And he'd probably have a mistress somewhere that he'd rather spend his nights with. He was a rogue, after all.

"What am I thinking? The man would never even consider me,” she said with a snort. Her fantasies were clouding her brain. She had to get a grip on reality.

While drying her hair by the fire there was a knock at the door.

"Come in,” she called.

"I—” Ian cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, and stood rooted to the spot. It was that or lunge across the space in a breath and bury his hands and face in the long damp tresses. “I came to see if you were ready to dine."

"Yes, I'm starved.” She stood, and pulled her hair back with a ribbon.

He crossed the room in two strides and took the satin from her fingers and tied a bow. The slope of her neck begged to be kissed. He swallowed the need before it consumed him. Torturing himself, he allowed his fingers to trail down the length of her hair before stepping away.

"Um, thank you,” she said, her voice somewhat unsteady.

Could it be that she wanted him in truth? That she'd not been performing some sort of research?

"My pleasure.” He took her hand and secured it in the crook of his arm, then guided her downstairs. If she did want him, then he was a man in dire trouble, for how could he possibly refuse her?

Dinner was actually a pleasant affair, Jenny noted. She hadn't expected to enjoy herself so much, but Michael had finally stopped his incessant chatter about Fiona, and Ian had managed to not start a single argument with her since they left her room. He barely spoke, to be exact. She decided not to investigate the reasons for his silence, and listened to Michael recount tales of the many tangles Ian and Colin had gotten into on their trips across the country.

At one point she found herself laughing so hard she nearly snorted wine through her nose. Not a ladylike thing to do, but then Mr. Dougal had supplied them with so much of the stuff, she found herself rather tipsy.

Swiping tears from her eyes, she said, “I don't believe that story for a minute, but I loved it, just the same."

"I've only told what Colin himself has said,” Michael said, but Jenny knew he had to be wearing a huge grin.

Ian chuckled. “By the time it was told to you, whelp, it had already grown to such gargantuan proportion, that no one could believe it."

"You have a knack for tales, Michael,” Jenny said. “Thanks for sharing them. But,” she said, quickly covering a yawn. “I think I've had too much wine and should probably be getting to bed."

Ian rose and pulled out her chair. “Michael, you shall take second watch,” he said. Taking her hand, he escorted her from the room.

"Second watch?” she asked, as they climbed the stairs.

"One of us shall be standing guard outside your door through the night,” Ian said, opening her bedroom door.

"But that's—"

"You will not know we are here, but if you should need anything, one of us shall be but a few steps away."

He pushed her inside and closed the door before she could argue. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she grumbled.

"But necessary,” she heard him say through the door.

"Fine. Torture yourself on the floor,” she said with a huff, and readied herself for bed.

It only took a few minutes before guilt gnawed at her. Ian was going to spend half the long cold night on the floor outside her room. It was unheard of, ridiculous, and completely unfair. He had ridden just as hard as she. Oh, sure she was new at it, but he had to be tired, longing for a real bed, just as much as she did. And it was her fault. He didn't want her to come along, and now she was his responsibility.